


Christmas

by htebazytook



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Phone Calls, Phone Sex, Romance, Slash, Smut, long distance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-06 18:27:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/htebazytook/pseuds/htebazytook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Variations on a theme of distance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas

**Title:** Christmas  
 **Author:** [](http://htebazytook.livejournal.com/profile)[**htebazytook**](http://htebazytook.livejournal.com/)  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Disclaimer:** <\--  
 **Pairing:** Zach/Chris  
 **Author's Notes:** Variations on a theme of distance.

 

 

"So, what are you doing for Christmas?"

"I mean, my friends from college and I used to meet up all the time. Haven't done it recently, but I think enough of us are heading back to the 'Burgh this year for a decent get together."

"Oh. Cool. You mean _Pitts_ burgh, correct?"

"What else would I mean?"

"You know, Zachary, there _are_ other towns whose names end in '-burg'. In fact, that's what 'burg' _means_ , so—"

Zach sighs. "Oh, this is truly sad. You can't hear the silent H, can you? Wow, Chris. I'm just, I mean, I really thought you were more than just a pretty face, man . . ."

Chris laughs. "Shut up."

There's a voice in the background. Zach laughs and murmurs something.

"Who's that?"

Zach talks to them again. "Sorry about that. What were you saying, Chris?"

And Chris feels just slightly betrayed. Or like his conversation alone isn't stimulating enough for Zach or something. It's a stupid feeling, so he forces himself to ignore it. "Nothing," he says, unhappy with how high-pitched and insincere it comes out. Reiterates, "Yeah, no, nothing. Just wondering who you were talking to. Or if you've finally cracked and begun carrying on conversations with your dog in the absence of my sparkling repartee." Shit, he hadn't meant to ramble . . .

Zach laughs. "Yeah, Chris, listen—I've gotta go, man. Call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah, okay. See y—well, talk to you later. Bye." He lets Zach end the call.

*

The next time Chris calls they're interrupted rather insistently by sudden, uproarious barking.

"Holy _shit_ , Noah, it's already _in_ the tree. Just give it up. I mean, this is truly a new low, buddy."

". . . You want me to give you some space over there? Make a call about couples' counseling or maybe just go ahead and get you a therapist, Zach?" But Chris is secretly glad the only other entity demanding Zach's attention is a small, furry one who's only in it for the food and shelter.

This surprises a giggle out of Zach. Chris can hear him switching his phone to the other ear. "Yeah, it's probably time."

After a few too many beats of silence Chris finally asks. "So yeah, I mean, I'll probably be back before the end of the month, so we should go on a—like, out for coffee or something? I mean, whatever works for you. Know you've got filming and shit, so . . ."

When Zach's voice comes it's taken on its own heightened pitch of insincerity. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good. Um, like when are you getting back?"

Chris panics a little bit, like it matters. "I'll let you know, man. Hey, I've actually kinda gotta go now, so."

"Oh. Yeah. Talk to you later."

"Mhmm. See ya." Chris hangs up before he can correct himself.

*

"Hello?"

"What, you don't have a customized ring tone for me?"

Zach laughs. "What's up?"

"Nothing much. You?"

Zach sighs. "Making food and sucking at it."

"Sounds like fun times. How are you?"

"Um, I'm fine, I guess." Little laugh. "What's with the inquisition, Chris?"

"Just asking after your mental and physical well-being, jeez. Also, what are you wearing?"

Zach laughs, pauses to do something sizzling and complicated sounding with whatever he's cooking. "Huh?"

Chris shakes his head even though Zach can't see it. "Nothing. I was just being silly and asking what you were wearing."

"Well, I'll describe you mine if you describe me yours," Zach says exaggeratedly, and Chris is pretty sure he's waggling his eyebrows to boot.

"Hmm, well, let's see. Sitting around and doing nothing at the moment, so, like, sweatpants and an old button down shirt that no longer fits. And socks with holes in them." Chris pauses. "Does the remote control count? 'Cause it really does complete my look."

"Oh, _baby_ ," Zach groans. "Glasses?"

"Yep. And by the way, I only called you because there's nothing on TV."

"Man, do I feel special. Did you just wake up?"

"Like an hour ago. Haven't showered."

"God, I am so turned on right now," Zach deadpans.

Chris laughs, scrunches down lower in the couch. "It's your turn, you know," he prompts.

"Shit, hold on, I've gotta open this thing. There. Okay. I'm wearing a pair of jeans I'm trying to break in and a thin white T-shirt that still manages to be the height of fashion."

Chris is intrigued despite himself. "So basically you haven't changed at all since I left."

"Basically."

"Is it hot there?"

"Low 70's. Not bad."

"Sounds like paradise," Chris sighs.

"Yeah, I mean, I'm sweating a little bit. Just went for a run."

Chris licks his lips. "Is your shirt sticking to you?"

"Oh, translucently so." Chris can hear him grin. "Anything else you wanna know?"

"Come to think of it, yeah—how tight are the jeans?"

"Already pretty tight. Getting tighter," Zach says, and now Chris can really hear the smile in his voice, can gage its exact level of mischievousness.

"Ohhh," Chris breathes appreciatively. "The new straight leg Levi's, right?"

". . . You're such a fag."

"Shut up. Remember when I made you come in those?"

"Pretty well, yeah." Something sizzles in the kitchen again, reminds Chris he's cooking something. "Why? You wanna try to do it again?"

"Hmmm. Is there shit on the counter?"

"Well yeah, like flour and vegetable oil and whatever. I hope you know that if you were actually here trying to seduce me, I'd make you put all of said shit away before proceeding."

"Good thing this is just some fantastical scenario then, 'cause I'd have to knock it out of the way for when I fuck you over the counter."

"Um, you'd get flour everywhere."

"Oh, I'd lick it all off you, bro, no worries."

Zach laughs. "Anyway, what makes you think you to be fucking me, hm?"

"Well, if this had really happened, I would've wooed you with my far superior cooking prowess beforehand, so you'd be mere putty by this point."

"Sounds like a vaguely probable scenario," Zach admits, and under his general cool Chris can hear his breath quicken.

Chris is warming up to the idea of phone sex, if only to get Zach talking dirty alone in his kitchen with subpar breakfast food. "First," he says decisively, "I would have to get rid of your shirt, grab the nearest liquid confectionery—"

"Maple syrup," Zach supplies.

"—and accidentally open the bottle and squirt some on you. And then I'd have to lick it up before it got on your jeans, and you could put your hands in my hair—"

"Or what's left of it," Zach laments.

"—and _then_ I'd probably just get on my knees and blow you, so."

Zach clears his throat. Chris thinks he can hear him turning the stove off. "Oh?"

" _Oh_ ," Chris confirms.

Zach's voice drops in pitch. "Let me fuck your mouth?"

"Of course, baby. And I'll be sucking you so good that you wouldn't even notice I've got the vegetable oil from where I knocked it onto the floor. And you'd be asking me for more, so I'd slick up my fingers and work you open. Unless you still feel like defending your power top reputation?"

Zach's definitely turned on now—breathing audible and voice rough around the edges: "Shit, Chris . . ."

"So what would you like me to do, Zach?"

"Shit. Just, ah, just fuck me."

Chris's pulse goes haywire. He switches his phone to his other hand so he can rub at his erection. "Yeah?"

"Fuck yes. Oh God, you're touching yourself, aren't you?"

"Um, absolutely. God, want you so bad. Wish you were here, Zach."

"You're fucking me now, right?"

"Sounds good," Chris manages, getting too close too quickly.

"Chris?"

"Nn, yeah—keep talking."

" _Fuck_. Okay. Your cock's so fucking gorgeous, Chris. Want you to fuck me . . ."

"Over the counter, right?" Chris pants.

"The counter thing really does it for you, doesn't it? Yeah—over the counter, knocking shit over, whatever you want, Chris, just make sure you fuck me senseless . . . oh, shit, I'm so close . . . "

"Oh, Zach, oh God, gonna come . . ."

" _Ah_. Yes, yes yes—" Zach cuts himself off with a shout.

"You just came, didn't you? _Unnnn_ , fuck. _Fuck_."

"Come on, Chris, come for me. Come _on_."

"Oh. Oh, _God!_ "

Zach just breathes raggedly on the other end, and Chris tries to form a coherent thought while he cleans himself up.

"Never actually done that before," Chris says once he's caught his breath somewhat. "I nearly ruined those jeans again, didn't I?"

"Nearly." Zach flicks the oven back on, exhales contentedly. "Well, that was pretty hot."

Chris suddenly can't stop laughing.

*

Chris sees who's calling, doesn't bother with hellos. "I hope you're ready," he says. "It's coming, man. The goose is getting fat."

"Yeah, I haven't eaten a Christmas goose, um, since old Mr. Scrooge went to the Big Morality Tale in the sky."

"Wow, how long have you been waiting to use that one?"

"I don't know what you're talking about—barely even thought about it." Zach shifts his phone around. "But yeah, I'm really not sure exactly what I have planned for Christmas. Too many parties to keep track of, you know?"

"Yeah, yeah. You're Mr. Popular, I get it. But do you know if you're still going back home?"

"Uh . . . maybe. I dunno." He's clearly preoccupied with something. "Wait, do you mean LA? 'Cause I'm not even sure if I'm going back to Pittsburgh, now. I dunno, though. We'll see."

"Okay, but that means you're not allowed to bitch about not having a white Christmas."

"Fine. Hey, you missed Tyler's party, you know."

"Oh. Well, I dunno, I don't think I was invited." Chris was _definitely_ not invited.

"Nonsense—it's implied. God, didn't they teach you anything in finishing school?"

"Hey, I can balance books on my head, you Philistine," Chris says. "But no, I don't think Tyler likes me all that much, so, yeah. _Anyway_ , I couldn't have flown back in time. Whatever."

A pause. "Oh, whoops—I'm nodding right now."

Chris laughs. "Okay."

"So, uh. How are you?"

Chris feels oddly out of whack, now. "Well, I'm not sure if I can make it back before John's, either. Actually."

"Aw, man. But you'll be home for Christmas, right? I mean, I'll have a blue Christmas without you, _that's_ certain." Zach's going for levity, but Chris just isn't feeling it.

"Yeah. For Christmas, yeah. Listen. I gotta go."

"'Kay. Um. Talk to you later." Zach's concerned now, and it rubs Chris the wrong way.

"Yeah, later."

*

Chris can go to parties without Zach, too. It's the holidays, and it's easy to find excuses for alcohol.

He doesn't even know the guy hosting it that well, only that he's been inviting Chris out with him and his friends since day one of filming. And he's cute, so it's not like it's a chore to humor him. Blonde and simple and nothing like Zach.

Four drinks in, Chris is formulating a plan to maybe seduce Blondie what's-his-name—I mean, Chris hasn't got any for weeks and the guy is clearly into him, buying Chris drinks and finding reasons to lean across him. It's not like he and Zach are exclusive or official or anything other than slightly fucked up. It's not like Tyler hasn't been after Zach for _forever_.

Chris turns it over in his mind for an unhealthily long time. Maybe he's just too lonely and/or horny to think properly. Suspicion is easier than trust, and Zach isn't exactly known for his steadfast fidelity. Not in the past, at least. There hadn't been opportunities for sleeping around on set, on the tour, while they spent the majority the their time together, trapped geographically and by default. But now . . .

"Hey there. You're Chris, right?"

Chris looks up from his drink into a pair of big, voluptuous—"What big eyes you have," Chris comments drunkenly.

She laughs. "Why so blue? It's Christmas. Get in the spirit!"

Chris returns to his drink but she snatches it away.

"Hey, no drowning your sorrows. Why don't you tell me what's on your mind?" She has such a carefree smile that Chris can't help returning it.

"What's your name?"

"Olivia. Eyes up here, Chris."

*

Chris's phone starts screaming at him out of nowhere, jolts him awake. He scrabbles around on the bedside table for it, knocking his glasses over in his haste.

" _What?_ "

"Oh my God, you're awake!"

"Yeah, _now_. Is something wrong, Zach?"

"Um, hell _yes_ something is wrong—you're not in LA, that's what's wrong. And you're missing a hell of a party!"

It's the little rush of anger that _really_ wakes Chris up. "Yeah? Well it sounds like you're having a good time anyway."

" _Chriiiiiisssss_."

" _What?_ " Chris snaps.

"You should be here, man . . . just come over right now, okay? Come on, please. Chris." And his name in Zach's meandering voice does something to him.

"It's. It's . . . 3 AM. Zach."

"Yeah," Zach sighs, full of static and regret. "Really want you here. Fucking lame without you."

"I'll be, you know, back for Christmas, at least." Chris waits out the ensuing pause with baited breath.

Another sigh. "Not good enough. You're coming home tonight."

"Zach."

"No, seriously, I am on Expedia _dot cooooom_ right now! I gotcha covered, buddy. M'a gentleman."

" _Zach_."

Some raucous revelry explodes in the background and Chris can hear people calling Zach's name.

Chris swallows. "You should—I mean, I should go now."

" _Noooo_ , hang on just a sec, baby, I am booking your flight and you're coming home and we're having mind blowing reunion sex."

"Just go back to your party, okay? 'Night."

Zach is gonna say he misses him any second so Chris hangs up.

*

"Look, I don't know what you want me to say, Zach. They needed to do some scenes again 'cause the audio got really fucked up on the street and it's not actually my fault." Zach doesn't respond. Chris can hear him breathing, though. "I'm gonna be there at Christmas, jeez. It's not like I don't want to be there sooner."

Zach sighs. "I know. Sorry. It's just that is Zoe's doing Avatar shit right now so I don't have anybody intelligent to hang out with. And we stopped filming for now, so I'm especially restless."

Chris feels a little better. "Well, I'm sure the menagerie appreciates your presence."

Zach laughs. "Yeah, there's that."

"So yeah." It's definitely the wrong time to bring this up, but there's never gonna be a right time, so Chris risks it: "Can I bring a plus-one to your little shindig?"

". . . Um, sure, I mean, my new live-in boyfriend will be there too, so that would certainly make it less awkward. What the fuck, Chris?" He's laughing.

"No, I mean, she's just a friend," Chris says, trying and failing to make light of it.

"Ugh, not Olivia. She's such a . . . well, we're in polite company, so I'll just shut up."

"Okay Zach—you know what? I'm getting a little sick of you bad mouthing my only actual friend over here."

"But come on, she's—"

" _Number one_ , you don't even know her. I mean, seriously Zach? Not to mention—"

Zach laughs, not at all pleasantly.

" _Not to mention_ all the stupid airheads you surround yourself with. And party with, and dumb yourself down for, and who think I'm a tool at the very least and assume I'm an oblivious idiot for being with _you_." Chris can't stop himself, so it's a lucky thing that Zach does it for him.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" The pause is somehow angrier than his actual words. "You think I'm _that_ sleazy, Chris? Really? 'Cause I'm not the one philandering around with some phony as fuck _bimbo_ in my spare time instead of sucking it up and coming home—"

"She's _fun_ , she's _intelligent_ , she doesn’t bitch me out for the sacrifices I make for _my job_ , she doesn't indulge all her stupid deadbeat, slutty friends who don’t exactly hide their interest, and god _dammit_ , Zach, you don't exactly discourage them. And it pisses me off enough when I'm _there_ , but when you call me up and talk about staying out with them all night and drinking, yeah, it kind of infuriates me, because Jesus, Zach, _I don't wanna hear it._ "

"Right. Why don't you call me back when you've stopped being a fucking idiot?" Zach says quietly, hangs up.

*

Chris can't remember exactly what he'd been dreaming about, but it'd left him with a panicky, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He picks up his phone and stares at all the texts from Zach he's accumulated since he left. It's 3 AM and he just wants to call him, even if they haven't talked in a couple of days.

It takes a good half hour of lying there and stewing in all the residual despair from his dream before he decides it's okay to wake Zach up in the middle of the night, too.

"Yeah?" Zach says vaguely, scratchy with sleep, and Chris is irrationally relieved he wasn't already awake and out somewhere.

"Hey."

"Oh. Hey, Chris." He doesn't sound pissed, at least. "You okay?"

"No. Sorry for the other day. I really . . . what time on Thursday?"

"Party starts at five. I'll see you then, okay? Go back to sleep."

"Okay. Zach, I really . . ."

"You too, Chris. Goodnight."

*

It's so late in the afternoon that the sun is starting to set, and Chris is trying desperately to ignore this fact. He's also trying desperately to ignore Zach's unrelenting calls. There's no way he's gonna make it back in time at this rate, and everyone in the terminal seems to think they're gonna delay the flight _another_ hour, now. He sighs and reminds himself that he shouldn't be freaking out, that it doesn’t matter if he gets back before the clock strikes midnight or some shit.

On the umpteenth call, Chris picks up. "Hey."

" _Where are you?_ Chriiis, you're missing holiday themed drinking games, man. _Karl_ is here, dammit—hurry up!"

"You're right, I'm in cahoots with the Nor'easter. This is a big elaborate environmental conspiracy just to avoid seeing you guys. Me and the storm, we're anti-merriment."

Zach laughs. "Aw, cheer up. It's okay, we'll do stuff tomorrow, I'm just being an asshole. I was kind of looking forward to um, 'exchanging gifts' with you though . . ."

"Tomorrow," Chris promises.

"Under the tree?"

"Sounds kinky. And slightly dangerous. So yeah, totally up for it."

"What a sexual deviant that Mr. Pine is," Zach muses. "Want me to dress up like Santa, too?"

Chris can't stop laughing, hates that he can't conjure up the ridiculous leer Zach's probably sporting.

*

Countless hours later the cab door shuts and Chris texts him:

_It's too late to come over Z - don't wait up. I'll see u tomorrow_

Chris nods off on the smooth highway, jerks awake when the cab turns onto his street. He tips the guy, mumbles a _Merry Christmas_ , and steps out into the thick warm air and _still_ doesn't feel at home.

He's regretting telling Zach not to wait up, now, but he's too damn tired and un-fun to crash the party that is surely raging drunkenly on down the street. Leaves his suitcase pathetically by the front door and trudges up the stairs to pass out in his clothes.

He opens his bedroom door mid-yawn, doesn't realize anything's amiss until he reaches out to turn down the covers and meets flesh.

Zach's asleep, glasses scrunched awkwardly around his face, reeking of his special occasion cologne and cinnamon. Chris watches him breathe for a small eternity until he's falling asleep on his feet, shakes Zach awake.

"Chris? Oh shit. I was gonna surprise you," Zach yawns, doesn't even open his eyes.

Chris pulls Zach's glasses off and puts them on the bedside table, laughs at the red marks they leave on his face. "Good job." Chris pulls back the covers and slithers into bed next to him, glad of the warm sheets.

Zach curls around him almost immediately, plants a kiss on his temple. "Missed you. Awesome sex in the morning, right?"

"Yep." Something like relief or happiness floods him and he can finally relax into sleep. "Missed you, too."

*


End file.
